


Blame

by AutisticWriter



Category: Harry & Paul (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Crying, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode Related, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, One Shot, Pain, Physical Abuse, Screenplay/Script Format, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8527183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: On the way back from Henley Regatta, the Lovelocks discuss how Clive ruined their day out. But was it really his fault?Based on this conversation from a sketch:"I heard that someone force-fed him a magnum of champagne.""Yes, and he vomited all over the place, the dirty brute.""Rupert had to throw him in the Thames to clean him up."





	

_Mr and Mrs Lovelock are in their car. They both look irritated and tired. Clive is sat in the boot, looking pale and drowsy, his chin resting on his knees. His hair and clothes are soaking wet. As they drive along, the Lovelocks talk as though Clive isn’t there._

**Rupert** : I can’t believe him.

 **Mrs Lovelock** : I know, darling, I know. I can’t either. He totally humiliated us in front of everyone.

 **Rupert** : We’ll be lucky if we can even go to Henley next year. Honestly, how could he do that? Vomiting everywhere like that! It was so embarrassing.

 **Mrs Lovelock** : Why he couldn’t have just gone to the lavatory, I’ll never know.

 **Rupert** : I know, I know.

_The camera zooms in on Clive, showing that he is shivering violently. His eyes look bleary, like he is drunk._

**Clive** : ( _Strong Geordie accent, his speech slurred_ ) It wasnae ma fault, Mista Lovelock.

 **Rupert** : Be quiet, Clive!

_Clive sighs and whimpers, his face tensing up as though he is near tears._

_The scene changes. A few hours earlier, the Lovelocks and Clive are at Henley Regatta. Rupert and his wife are sat at a table with some friends, laughing and chatting. Clive is sat on the ground by Rupert’s feet, looking miserable. A man approaches their table, and smiles at Rupert whilst giving Clive an odd look._

**Man** : Rupert, my man, can I borrow your Northerner for a minute? I’m trying to prove a bet.

 **Rupert** : Of course, old chap.

 **Man** : Cheers. Right, you, come with me.

_Clive looks at him, and then at Rupert._

**Rupert** : Go on, Clive.

_Looking nervous, Clive gets to his feet and follows after the man. Once they reach his table, the man picks up a magnum of champagne and thrusts it at Clive. Clive stares at the bottle and at the man, clearly confused._

**Man:** Drink it.

 **Clive:** Wha’?

 **Man** : I said drink it! Go on!

_Several people are looking at him and Clive with great interest. Clive looks terrified. A woman approaches the pair and looks at them both._

**Woman** : What’s all this?

 **Man** : I’ve got a bet on with Gavin. I think Northerners can’t drink champagne, but Gavin says they might be able to. So I thought I’d test the theory on Rupert’s Northerner.

_The woman grins._

**Woman** : Sounds exciting.

 **Clive** : Can I go please?

_They all laugh patronisingly._

**Woman** : You silly thing. Surely you realise we don’t understand you.

_The man shakes Clive’s shoulder far too hard, and he winces._

**Man** : Come on, drink it!

_Clive sighs, but raises the bottle to his mouth and starts to drink the champagne. After a few mouthfuls, he takes it out of his mouth and looks at the man pleadingly._

**Man** : No, you have to drink all of it.

_He grabs the bottle and shoves it back into Clive’s mouth, tilting the bottle upwards. Clive is forced to drink the entire bottle. He screws his eyes up and champagne dribbles out of the corners of his mouth and splatters his pyjamas. The men and woman watching are all laughing and appear to be enjoying themselves. Once the bottle is empty, the man takes it from Clive and turns to the rest of the group. Gavin smiles smugly and holds his hand out, palm upwards._

**Gavin** : There we are. That’ll be thirty pounds, please.

_Behind him, Clive drops to his knees, gasping for breath. He wraps his arms around his abdomen and groans, clearly in a lot of pain. The surrounding group are staring at him in anticipation._

**Man** : But will he keep it down?

_Rupert and his wife have come over and stare at Clive. The pair looks more confused than concerned._

**Mrs Lovelock** : What exactly have you done to him?

 **Man** : It was for a bet. Gavin over there bet Northerners can drink champagne, but I think they can’t.

 **Rupert** : I see.

_Clive looks up at Rupert. There is a pitiful expression on his face._

**Clive** : Mista Lovelock, I don’ feel ve’y well.

_Clive hiccups, and everyone laughs. Clive tries to stand up, but he sways unsteadily and falls to his knees again. He whimpers, and hiccups again, and then heaves. Then man sees this, and smiles; Gavin looks alarmed. Clive looks very nauseated, and suddenly vomits all over the grass._

**Man** : Ha! Give me my money, Gavin!

Rupert: Clive! Don’t vomit, you dirty brute.

_But Clive can’t stop vomiting. He throws up all over his trousers and down his shirt, his eyes screwed up, his face flushing bright red._

**Rupert** : Clive!

_Rupert grabs Clive’s arm and hauls him to his feet. He drags Clive across the field, past the marquis, past the people staring at them. Clive is still being sick, and looks close to collapse. In the background, the man and Gavin are arguing._

**Rupert** : ( _Hissing_ ) Why couldn’t you have gone to the lavatory, you idiot? How disgusting.

_Clive’s legs give way and he falls heavily to the ground. He cries out in pain, and vomits again._

**Rupert** : ( _Sighing_ ) Get up, Clive.

_But Clive can’t move. Rupert sighs again and folds his arms across his chest._

**Rupert** : ( _Muttering_ ) Bloody Northerner.

_Finally, Clive stops vomiting. He flops down against the grass, drained of energy. Rupert doesn’t look remotely sympathetic. He prods Clive in the side with his foot until Clive rolls over onto his back. Clive stares up at Rupert, his eyes very bleary. He is covered in his own vomit, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat._

**Rupert** : Look at you. You’re filthy.

 **Clive** : ( _Weakly_ ) Sorry.

 **Rupert** : You need to clean yourself up.

_Rupert glances over his shoulder and sees something; he smiles._

**Rupert** : Right, I’ve got an idea. Get up, Clive.

_Once again, Rupert drags Clive to his feet. Clive looks dizzy and unsteady, and groans, putting his hand to his head. Rupert forces Clive to walk all the way back to their table, where Mrs Lovelock is sat. As soon as Rupert lets go of him, Clive falls over again. He rests his head against the grass and groans, rubbing his stomach._

**Rupert** : Darling? Do you think there’s a way to get Clive cleaned up? I was thinking of the river, but...?

_Clive raises his head, a terrified expression crossing his face, the sudden anxiety making him look a lot more alert._

**Clive** : You’re nat gonna throw me in the bloody river, are ya?

_The Lovelocks don’t appear to hear him. Mrs Lovelock smiles._

**Mrs Lovelock** : That sounds like a good idea.

 **Rupert** : Right, then. Come on, Clive.

_A terrified, trembling Clive wails and looks like he is about to cry._

_The scene changes again, focusing on Clive in the back of the car. He wraps his arms tighter around himself, his teeth chattering together._

**Rupert** : I hope you’re happy, Clive. You’ve ruined everything, you bloody useless Northerner.

_Clive sighs shakily, and tears start to run down his face._


End file.
